A Long Day
by HoVis
Summary: There's a new superhero in town... and a kryptonite fire and a nervy trainee only serve to make the situation all the more confusing for Clark Kent as his two lives threaten to become one. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello all! What follows is the first chapter of a story which struck me a few days ago and which I started to write up as a welcome distraction from exams and revision. It's been done before, of course – what hasn't on this site? – but I hope I've put a new angle on it.

**Setting:** Now, I'm not entirely sure where this fits in the timeline since, in a way, there is no 'definitive' Superman. The basics are that Lois is unmarried and without children (cute as he is, Jason does confuse things somewhat), and that Superman has yet to go on his five-year hiatus. I have tried to put a bit of humour into this but, frankly, I was multi-tasking with Chemistry so what I found amusing when writing it may not be so to anyone else!

Hope you enjoy – please tell me what you think!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Superman. Sadly. Everyone else owns all the best ideas :-).

**Chapter One – A Long Day**

Clark Kent blearily opened his eyes and was struck by the fervent and worrying conviction that it was going to be a long and tiring day. As he rose, rubbing a head that seemed oddly sore, he tried to pinpoint the cause of such uncharacteristic pessimism. It was only when he entered the kitchen (which currently looked like a bomb had hit it – somehow, he never found the time to clean the plates, _despite_ being capable of doing them at superspeed) and saw the last night's _Daily Planet_ upon the table that he remembered. He let out a groan.

"Why do I do this to myself?" He asked the empty room, wishing briefly that he still had a dog – then at least he'd have an excuse to talk to himself without looking mad. "_Why?_" He trudged to the washing machine, and pulled out what could only be described as a red and blue mess. To his sharpened senses, it still reeked of smoke. As he brewed a strong coffee (more for the psychology of it for anything else – the caffeine buzz to _his_ system was so negligible as to be non-existent) he absentmindedly cast his gaze on the newspaper and cringed at the recollection it stirred.

"Superman's cape catches fire during daring rescue." He read from the front page. "_Geez_." He shook his head. The suit was, to a certain extent, fireproof – though not as fireproof as he was. During a chemical fire at a factory the evening before, the temperatures inside the equipment had reached such a temperature that the fire-crews had feared it might explode, but had dared not go near it themselves. So Clark – or rather Superman – had, impervious to the heat, gone in there himself. He hadn't even _noticed_ the fact that his cape was on fire until one of the fire-crew had pointed it out, at which point a snap-happy member of the public had taken a picture of his abject surprise with their mobile phone, a picture which now adorned the front cover of every paper in town. And then, in a complete lack of common sense, he had dived in the nearest swimming pool to put it out – forgetting, of course, that he could have simply _blown_ the thing out. Leading to the photograph on the second page of a sopping wet Superman with a charred cape.

Clark's excuse to himself, later that evening, for the act of idiocy more suited to his _brown_-suited self, was that he must have inhaled too much of the noxious smoke even for his more resistant physiology. He had been in and out of the burning building for about an hour before finally managing to get everyone to safety and putting it out, resulting the next day in a new empathy with many of his colleagues. He finally understood what a hangover felt like. Except for _him_, it would probably take at least three bottles of aspirin to wipe the headache out. Rubbing his eyes – he'd have to forgo breakfast that morning, he was already late up – he moved over to the fish tank and gazed at his one, lone fish.

"Y'know," he said casually, looking morosely into the goldfish's wide, unblinking eyes, "you've got it more easy than you can imagine. No responsibility, nobody to worry about but yourself... no embarrassing moments to kick yourself over."

It was at that point, as he glanced at the clock, that he realised just _how_ late he actually was.

"Oh, geez!" He exclaimed, and the fish was left staring in bemusement as a brown-suited blur flashed out of the apartment.

888

At the _Daily Planet_, the office was buzzing with talk of the previous night's 'incident'. Clark was amazed by some of the sentiments of his colleagues, but also curiously comforted – the main attitude was one of pleasant surprise that Superman was as human as they all were in the fact that he, too, could end up looking like a fool... despite the fact that looking like a fool was something he was more used to doing in his 'ordinary' job.

"Kent!" A voice bellowed even before he had stepped out of the lift, audible even _without_ his heightened hearing from across the lively newsroom. "My office, now!" A few of the nearby workers shot Clark sympathetic looks, telling him that the 'chief' was in a particularly bad mood; the day was getting longer and longer, stretching out ahead of him in a particularly dreary manner.

Added to that, he felt certain that White's ire – which was usually accompanied by high-decibel shouting – would do nothing for his headache.

"Chief?" He asked innocently as he stepped into the office of the _Planet_'s editor-in-chief, hoping against hope that Perry wouldn't have noticed his tardiness, but to no avail; the steel-haired and steel-hearted boss seemed to have a superhuman ability to tell, to the second, the promptness of each one of his employees.

"Have a seat, Kent, before you get any later." Perry White said gruffly, and Clark stumbled (not entirely deliberately) into a chair beside Lois Lane and another, unfamiliar woman with short blonde hair and a somewhat wide-eyed look behind her narrow glasses. Lois' back was stiff – the equivalent of her hackles being raised – telling Clark clearly that _something_ had upset her that morning. The source of her discomfort was soon explained when she burst out;

"But Chief, Clark and I work together, he's _my_ partner, you can't just tie him down to some..." she glanced, almost guiltily, at the young woman beside her "...novice."

Clark briefly imagined using the words of a braver man and saying; _"well, Lois, I didn't know you cared,"_ but he didn't. Instead he smiled at the spirit of the woman who would argue with Perry White on Clark's behalf just to stop him being partnered with a "novice" whom he imagined might be very similar to the inexperienced journalist whom Lois had so resented being landed with several years ago.

"Firstly," White said, raising a finger, "don't call me chief. Secondly, _you_ were a novice too, once, Lane, and as I recall it was only due to the tutoring of someone more experienced that you became the journalist you are today. And -" he raised his hand again as Lois opened her mouth to interrupt "– I think Clark is more than ready to manage without you."

Lois sat back, her arms folded, and Clark was both bemused and a little flattered to feel the heat radiating from her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. Of course, the heat and the redness of her cheeks may simply have been from her anger at being verbally beaten by Perry, but the small, vain part of Clark took great pleasure in thinking otherwise. It was at that moment that the small, blonde woman leaned forwards, and held her hand out to Clark across Lois.

"I'm Kerry Wilson, by the way." She said softly, and Clark took her proffered hand. Her handshake wasn't firm, but nor was it weak either, and Clark found himself mentally assessing her. Quiet, yet not afraid to interrupt Lois Lane and Perry White, two of the more formidable characters Clark knew. Clark had the instant sense of an individual who could fade into the background and yet be able to stand her own in a quiet way and be happy with such a lot – a lot which Clark envied.

"Clark Kent," he said, flashing her a smile, "pleased to meet you." He glanced at White. "So, what are we on? Domestic beat?" Domestic beat was precisely the beat which Lois had spent years avoiding, claiming that it was "so stereotypically female it isn't even funny". Perry White smiled, a rare and foreboding occurrence.

"No, I want you on city," he said, and turned to Lois as she drew in an almighty, furious breath, "I want _you_ on domestic."

Clark winced as beside him, his newly-demoted partner almost breathed fire. He leant around the back of her and, tapping Kerry on the shoulder, nodded towards the door.

"I think we should better go..." he murmured, as Lois exploded. As the exited, they could hear her protests ringing out. Clark kept an ear on them all the way out of the building, and couldn't help but smile at one of Lois' protests, and Perry's subsequent response:

"But, Chief, the domestic beat is for _mothers!_"

"Which you may well be someday, so it might be good to get a bit of practise in, Lois."

But it was Lois' snort of laughter at this statement that made him smile most of all.

888

The girl (and for the first time in his life, Clark felt a little old) would make a good journalist, he was sure of that. She noticed things, and being short in stature and quiet in personality she could easily get into places that others couldn't without being noticed _herself_. Admittedly, Lois Lane was no shrinking violet, and her method – of shouting at anyone and everyone who had anything to do with a breaking story – frequently got her the results she wanted, but Clark could well imagine Kerry Wilson achieving the same thing with much more stealth and much less stress.

But, loath though he was to admit it, Clark found her an annoyance. She was a little _too_ wide-eyed and un-prepossessing for his tastes – almost every question he asked was met with a short, slightly nervous laugh and an "I don't mind" or "I don't know". Added to that, her presence also made it a little awkward for Clark to slip away whenever help from his alter ego was required – though, with his headache still in full force, he wasn't too keen to leave what seemed to be the wonderfully comforting solid ground behind anyway. Fortunately, there had been no urgent cries for help that morning.

As the walked back to the _Planet_ at midday, Clark tried to draw his unnervingly quiet companion into conversation.

"So, how have you liked your first day – I mean, first morning – on the beat?"

Kerry paused slightly.

"Alright, I guess... swell."

Clark laughed out loud at her words. She looked at him askance.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, and Clark shook his head, her words throwing him back to another time... another trainee.

"It's nothing. Just don't let Lois hear you use that word." They walked on in silence until Kerry, to Clark's surprise, broke it.

"Miss Lane is... a little... larger than life." She said, and Clark realised that her lack of loquaciousness was nothing to do with her personality as a whole; it was just her way of covering her nerves. It was probably better, he reflected, than his not-entirely-put-on tendency to go into verbal overdrive when stressed – at least as Clark Kent. Superman, he reflected, was also a pretty quiet person, which was probably why when he returned from a night of rescues he felt the indefinable urge to vent his woes to his goldfish.

"She sure is that," Clark said, remembering how, even as Superman, she had no qualms in telling him exactly what she thought – as Clark Kent, those qualms were completely nonexistent.

"I suppose she has to be – being Superman's -" Kerry stopped short, looking distracted. "I think I've left something behind." She started pawing through her handbag. "My recorder – I must have forgotten it when I put it down in that bar."

"Do you want me to -" Clark was about to say "come with you" but Kerry cut him off before he had a chance.

"No, go on without me – I'll catch you up." And without another word she melted away into the huge sea of humanity that was Metropolis. Clark shook his head, wondering what on earth he was going to do with her and wondering what she had been about to say about Lois and Superman before she dashed off. Not much later, however, something occurred which pushed all thoughts of his new partner completely out of Clark's mind.

888

"Clark, what have you done with the novice?" Lois asked as he entered, her gaze riveted on her screen.

"She forgot something – and don't call her that, Lois. She's a good kid."

Lois looked up at him with something akin to amusement in her eyes.

"Alright – farmboy. You seem to be getting mighty protective over her all of a sudden. Fancy a sandwich?" Lois held out the remaining half of her sandwich – it was a well known fact in their partnership that, when on a story, she would eat little and Clark would eat anything – but with the scent of cheese and ham another bout of wooziness hit him. He sat down, and shook his head.

"No thanks, Lois, I'm not feeling too good." It was only as he spoke the words that their true impact sunk in, because they were words which he _never_ said, a sentiment Lois soon echoed.

"But you're never ill, Clark." Her tone was clearly concerned, a small morsel which did little to assuage Clark's sudden doubts. Smoke – no smoke – could affect him this way unless something else had been present as well. Kryptonite. He closed his eyes and suppressed a groan. Among the many colours of the chemically-fuelled fire there had been a frequent green tinge... but amidst the chaos of his cape catching fire he hadn't even noticed the effects of the poisonous rock in gas form. Now, it seemed, he was suffering from kryptonite poisoning. He had to reach the sun, and soon. He rose to go.

"We've got a sighting!" Someone called, and suddenly the newsroom buzzed with activity. Clark glanced at Lois, confused.

"A sighting of what?" Lois rewarded him with a look she usually reserved for the very old, the very young, or the very stupid.

"Superman, of course. Where have you been the last thousand or so times he's been sighted?"

At work, Clark wanted to say, but he suppressed the urge. Then he frowned again. How could _he_ have been sighted if he was still here? He looked towards the screens, and as he did so a low murmur began to rumble beneath the suppressed excitement of the bullpen.

"That's not Superman." Lois murmured, and she was right – the colours were all wrong, the small speck in the corner of the screen the wrong shape, the hair too light and too long...

Then a camera finally caught a close-up shot and all thoughts of kryptonite poisoning flew from Clark's mind. He felt an irrepressible smile spread across his face. Impossible as it was, it seemed that family had come to visit.

888

**A/N:** Please tell me what you think and tell me; is it too unbearably clichéd to have this new flying superhero called 'Supergirl'? I'm rubbish at thinking up names for characters, which is probably why the above appeals to me. ;-)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** First of all, thanks to the people who reviewed, I really appreciate it. **Verity Kindle** and **DragonFlame27**, your advice about the name is duly noted. I'm even gonna try and make a joke out of it, though since my sense of humour is dryer than Parmesan cheese I might not pull it off . Previous disclaimer applies - enjoy chapter two!!!

**Chapter Two – Into the Evening**

They christened her Icarus, in honour of her flight and bright plumage. They had discussed giving her the prenom 'Super' but, partially due to Clark's input but more due to Lois', decided against it as being too much of a cliché. Clark had objected because he himself had found the label 'Superman' a little tired (though his colleagues, of course, did not know this), and Lois for reasons unfathomable to Clark, perhaps because the name Super_man_ had been her idea. Super-strong as he might be, Clark never claimed to be able to understand women. Icarus also fitted, Jimmy pointed out, with the insignia that seemed to be an "I" on her chest – just like the "S" on Superman's. Clark had smiled at his naïvety and nodded.

Her garb was fairly similar to his – tightly fitted, with a cape, but there the similarities ended. The cape was blue, but a bright, almost _feminine_ blue and far shorter and narrower than his, and the main costume a garish pink. The collar was higher, and the edges of the cape, collar and cuffs lined in silver thread. Clark Kent cocked his head in bemusement, and wondered if, perhaps, she was joking – if the costume itself was nothing more than a parody of his own. She certainly seemed less-than-serious after performing her rescue – of a family from a burning apartment – grinning and waving at the astonished but grateful crowds. Clark frowned. He hadn't heard any cries for help.

"Who _is_ she?" Jimmy was beside him, his eyes wide and expression eager.

"I don't know." Clark said, though a small, hopeful and impossible part of him thought maybe he _did_. "Icarus, apparently."

Jimmy shook his head, looking awed.

"_Lady_ Icarus." He said. "Icarus was a boy and she's..." he flushed furiously "...all woman."

Clark winced.

888

Lois was standing on the roof, smoking, when he got up there. He smiled slightly, unsure if he was smiling at her furious expression or at the warmth of the sun. Probably both.

"Hey – ah, Lois?" He said nervously as she turned her gaze to him. The part of him that had never really come to terms with being a superhero expressed its terror at the look in her eyes. "You alright? You seem a little – frazzled."

Lois sighed and shook her head, butting the cigarette out on the railings and dropping the still-glowing end to the floor. She looked down at it.

"Looks like Superman's found himself a _girlfriend_." She said bitterly, and Clark glanced away. He hated talking about Superman – well, himself – with Lois. She wouldn't be as understanding as his goldfish if she knew the truth.

"I don't think they've met yet, Lois," he said honestly. "And even if they had..." He stopped. Truth be told, he _was_ eager to meet the strange young woman, albeit probably not for the reasons Lois thought. He sighed. Pity he _was_ a 'one gal guy', else he could probably have a lot of fun. There were times when he really _hated_ being a metaphorical boy scout.

"And when they do?" Lois response was sharp, icy, and Clark was sure he felt some of the warmth from the sun evaporate under her glare. Then she sighed. "I'm sorry Clark, I know it's not your – I mean, I don't know _what_ I'm getting angry about in the first place..." she trailed off awkwardly, an unusual occurrence for Lois Lane, and an incredible thought hit Clark.

"Lois – are you... _jealous_?"

Lois' head jerked up and her back straightened abruptly. She thrust her packet of cigarettes back into her bag.

"Of course not!" She said, her voice a semitone or so higher than usual and her heart thumping erratically. She laughed nervously. "I'd better get going." She turned to leave. Clark smiled at her retreating back.

"Lois?" He called, and she paused, not turning. "Don't be jealous."

Lois didn't respond, but as he listened to her heartbeat as she entered the lift, he felt it calm slightly. He shook his head. He felt strangely giddy – probably the equivalent to being drunk, for him – from the soothing rays of the sun, and with a sudden impetuousness he undid his tie and, in one smooth movement, revealed his suit and leapt for the sky.

It was time to welcome Lady Icarus to Earth.

888

He finally met her a few feet above a building that had collapsed, trapping ten construction workers underneath. She was already there, flitting in and out of the wreckage, and when she caught sight of him she smiled slightly, but did not look at him. They worked in silent tandem, always keeping a distance between them, one darting in to pull a person out whilst the other cleared a girder or similarly large piece of rubble. After some time, she spoke.

"So, what have they called me?" Her voice was bright and slightly mocking. Superman looked up and realised she was smirking.

"Lady Icarus." He said, as he pulled a gibbering builder out of the mess that had once been destined to be a block of flats. "You managed to avoid the 'super' prefix."

She laughed, and pulled out another builder, who flushed with pleasure and shame at being rescued by an apparent woman. Superman thought that she was enjoying herself far too much, and she must have noticed his disapproving expression, for she laughed once more.

"Come now, live a little, Superman!" She exclaimed, and he noted that she did not use his real name – either of them. Did she know who, or what, he was? Did she know what _she_ was? He didn't rise to the bait.

"How old are you?" He asked instead. She rolled her eyes as, together, they dislodged a huge chunk of scaffolding. She flitted around like a bird.

"Now _that's_ slightly rude, Superman." She admonished. "You don't ask a woman her age." She looked down, and dusted her hands on her cape. "All done and dusted. I'll be seeing you again." And with that, she took off, leaving behind a dozen admiring builders and one very bemused Superman.

"You're not a woman." He said quietly, so quietly that only she could hear. "You're only a girl."

There was one upside to the bizarre scene. His headache was gone.

888

When he returned to the _Daily Planet_ he was met with the sight of a very harried Kerry Wilson being set upon by a red-faced Lois Lane, an eager Jimmy Olsen and a stony-faced Perry White. Clark listened to the conversation as it descended into such a whirl of voices that even he couldn't make sense of it.

"Look, I just don't feel -" she started to say, but was cut off by Lois making a plaintive appeal to Perry.

"Listen, chief, _I_ should do this story, you know I'm the best you've got, I covered Superman –"

"You saw him?" Jimmy asked Kerry eagerly.

"Don't call me chief, and Lois, I think you may be a little to emotionally involved with one superhero to go investigating another -"

"_Emotionally involved?!_"

"No, it was sort of a blur... I didn't see enough to write anything on it, really..."

"Lois, it isn't the story for you, and Wilson, are you here to write or not? You can hardly _turn down_ the chance to write a front-page story!"

"Please, sir, I just feel – Clark!" For Kerry had clapped plaintive eyes upon Clark, and as he stepped forward both Lois and Jimmy fell silent, Lois breathing a little heavily.

"Where've you been, Kent?" White asked, his eyes narrowed. Clark winced. He had used up quite a lot of excuses during his tenure at the _Daily Planet_.

"I just nipped out for a bit, chief to – uh, get the word on the street." He attempted a disarming smile which had never worked on Perry White.

"Well," White said gruffly, "whilst you've been doing that, your new 'partner' has supposedly been near the scene of crime, and is now refusing to write a story about it." The editor raised his eyes to the heavens. "I wonder sometimes if I'm running a bullpen or a _playpen_."

Clark raised an eyebrow. Lois was still looking fiery and Jimmy, he noticed, had quietly faded out of the conversation, presumably to avoid the fall-out when it ended. Kerry coughed nervously.

"I – I just feel, Mr White, that this story would best be covered by... well, a _male_ reporter. You know, for -" she flushed slightly "- the same reasons every newspaper had a female reporter covering Superman when he first appeared."

Though Lois huffed slightly, Clark had to admit that the trainee journalist had a point. He was not prepared, however, for Perry's next announcement.

"You're right." The chief said at last, and Kerry let out an imperceptible sigh of relief, heard only by Clark's extra-sensitive ears. White nodded to Clark. "Alright, Kent, you're on it. Get to the roof and get that interview."

Clark was momentarily dumbfounded. When he next spoke, he didn't even have to _try_ to speak in a higher tone than usual.

"I – chief?" But Perry was already walking away, something very like a smirk hovering over his lips.

"You heard me, Kent, get on it." Then in a quieter tone which, if Clark had been a normal human he wouldn't have heard; "It might make Lane jealous enough to realise what she feels."

Clark stood for a moment, wondering exactly what Perry thought Lois felt, or if his life could possibly get any more complicated, until a gentle tap upon his shoulder brought him back to reality.

"Uh, Clark?" It was Kerry. She looked apologetic. "I'm really – I'm sorry, I didn't realise he'd put _you_ onto the story."

Clark shook his head.

"It doesn't matter." He said, then frowned slightly. "But I don't understand, if you _saw_ Icarus, why didn't you -"

"I didn't." Kerry looked abashed and ashamed. "I – I just said that so Lois would get off my back about my being out of the newsroom when something really big came in."

Clark sighed.

"Lois was – on your back?"

Kerry shrugged ruefully.

"Only a little. Anyway you'd – better get onto the roof."

Clark nodded and turned away, wondering whether he should be flattered or exasperated that Lois was so upset by the appearance of a possible 'Superwoman' that she was taking it out on his very new, very green partner.

It was a pity he couldn't tell Lois, glasses and all, that she was the only woman he ever thought could truly partner either Superman or Clark Kent.

888

Clark stood on the roof, feeling like a complete klutz. He also felt a sudden and somewhat worrying affinity with every attractive female journalist in Metropolis, who after his first appearance had been 'stashed' on every roof trying to get an interview with him. He hadn't dared take an interview with any except Lois, though.

What should he do? How on _earth_ was he supposed to attract the attention of this 'Lady Icarus'? He could always jump off the edge, he supposed – after all, he could always pick himself up again later. He closed his eyes briefly in sheer confusion.

"It's a fine pickle you've got yourself in this time, Clark Kent..." he murmured. He kept his eyes shut for a long moment, trying to draw on some of the strength of Superman but finding himself unable to do so. He was still woozy from the fire, he realised. He would have to do something about that – perhaps, as Superman, he could set Lois on it, because she would never listen if he asked her to as Clark Kent.

He opened his eyes and almost took flight in shock.

"Be calm, big guy." Lady Icarus said, smirking fabulously.

888

**A/N:** I'm aware it isn't the best story - as full of cliches and plot holes as possible. But... please tell me what you think anyway :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Well, I know it's been a long hiatus, but I recently discovered this chapter on my PC and decided to post it... and will hopefully continue the next chapters in time. Sorry for the long wait, I have a very poor attention span...! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.

**Chapter Three – Two Stars of Night**

Clark scanned Lady Icarus up and down carefully. She was, as Jimmy had noted, 'all-woman', with carefully coiffured hair, a smile that had surely been made perfect by hours spent practising in front of the mirror, and a voice with a perfect American accent which screamed 'spoilt city girl' to Clark's small-town boy's ears. She radiated confidence, too – from every pore. Not only did she know she was powerful, she also knew she was beautiful, too, and took advantage of it. Clark felt a cold chill run through him as he thought of what Lex Luthor might do to that carefree confidence given half a chance.

"Uh – I – uh, need an interview..." he stammered at last, when he felt her gaze becoming impatient. She grinned, and all at once she was a girl, just a girl, really, young and excitable and free as a bird. For the second time that day, Clark felt he was getting old. When was the last time he had flown, not to save somebody, but just for the sheer exhilaration of it?

"Sure thing." Said the young superhero – or rather, hero_ine_. "Fire away." She leant casually against the railings, her cape fluttering about her waist and the emblem on her chest thrown into sharp prominence. It wasn't quite an 'I' – more of a thick rectangle with a curve inside of it, and though Clark understood that the 'S' on his own chest represented far more than that, he was unsure about the family emblems of other Kryptonians. It didn't enter his mind to doubt that she was of Krypton – a strange magic inside of him, somewhat like the thrill of flight, told him that she was his same.

"Um... that emblem on your chest... what does it – represent?"

Lady Icarus cocked her head at him curiously.

"What a strange question, Clark Kent." She said softly, then shook her head. "It stands for my name, as you know -" Clark fiddled impatiently "but it is also my... family crest, as it were." A shadow crossed her face, and she looked suddenly even younger. "I would rather not..." she trailed off.

"Sure." Clark said. "I understand." And though she smiled weakly at his platitude he, at least, knew that he understood completely. With a start, he realised that he hadn't started recording the interview – perhaps for the best. Perry need not know that he had started his interview with such a... pointless question. He was already regretting not saving it until later. Superman, perhaps, could have got away with asking Icarus about it earlier, but not a geeky reporter for the _Daily Planet_. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and Icarus straightened up, her eyes clearer.

"So..." Clark thought back to his very first Superman interview with Lois, and smiled. "Vital statistics – are you, uh, married? Or with someone?"

Lady Icarus' eyes crinkled very attractively at the corners of her eyes.

"No." She said, then raised an eyebrow, looking _him_ up and down. "But if I did, you'd be the first to hear about it... _Clark_."

Clark almost choked. Not only was she quoting almost word for word _his_ own answer to Lois' similar question so many years ago, she also seemed to be... _coming onto him?_

"Uh." He said, then shook himself, wondering how many more times he could make an idiot of himself in the space of 24 hours. "So... what exactly are your powers? We can see that you can fly, and have extraordinary strength, but... anything else?"

Lady Icarus pouted a little as she thought. She was, indeed, a brazen poser – a sign, Clark thought, of insecurity. What was she trying to prove? Perhaps herself against Superman who was, simply, _there_.

"Mostly the same as Superman." She said thoughtfully, holding out one perfectly manicured hand and ticking each power off on her fingers. "Heat vision, eyesight, hearing..." she paused. "And I'm invulnerable to green Kryptonite."

Clark started in shock. His eyes widened.

"R – really?" His heart beat a little faster than usual. If she could withstand green Kryptonite, then it meant that she could be an invaluable ally in his long-running battle with Lex Luthor. _Superman's_ battle, he reminded himself. Not even this slip of a girl from his homeworld could know of his secret, not yet, at least. He let out a quiet sigh as he realised that, even in the company of one of his own, he was still alone.

"Clark Kent," Icarus said thoughtfully, cocking her head to one side, "your mind is elsewhere." Slowly, she reached out a hand and touched his cheek.

Clark Kent stepped back in utter shock and dropped everything he was holding, including his recorder and his notepad, in the mud and the grime of the roof. Icarus flushed.

"I should go," she said sternly, as a scream which she thought he could not hear pierced Clark's ears. She took off, but, almost as an afterthought, glanced back and smiled, her eyes unreadable. "We will talk again, Clark Kent." She said, and took off with a little more style than even Superman had ever managed.

Superman did not appear at the rescue that evening. For he knew, flirtatious, young and foolish as she was, that 'Lady' Icarus was just as capable, if not more so, to deal with possibly life-threatening situations.

And he had also realised, with a jolt that felt a little too much like fear that his X-Ray vision, the least of all his powers, was no longer working.

888

Superman paid a visit to an agitated Lois Lane that night. She was pacing on her balcony, and did not look the least surprised to see him land just as the first star of the evening was appearing. She looked up briefly from her cigarette and shot him a searching look.

"Superman." She said, cool enough to make the night air seem a little chill even to his impervious skin.

"Miss Lane." He nodded back, then stepped forward hesitantly. "Miss Lane, are you – alright? You seem a little -" Lois cut him off, stubbing out her cigarette with surprising ferocity.

"Fine." She said, in the all-too familiar, stubborn voice of the Lois Lane of difficult interviews and news-breaking scoops. "I'm just fine. How is your new friend, by the way?"

Clark had expected Lois to bring Icarus up in conversation with Superman, but hadn't expected it to be quite _this_ soon. He gave her a smile he would never have dared to in his ordinary clothes, and asked gently;

"Are you _jealous_, Miss Lane?"

Lois started, and coughed, her cheeks flushing. Superman smiled as he concentrated on her heartbeat and heard it speed up perceptibly.

"Of course not." She said, carefully trained disgust barely covering the slight wobble in her voice. Superman studied her carefully, and realised with a frown that she looked tired, far more than usual. Her eyes were rimmed by black smudges, and her hair was unkempt. Though Superman didn't realise it and Lois would never admit it, she was feeling the absence of her working partner sorely and confused by the sudden blurring of emotions that the arrival of Clark's new partner and Superman's 'new friend' had caused.

Superman sighed. Tempting though it was to try and ease Lois' clearly troubled emotions, he knew that he had more pressing – and more businesslike – matters to discuss with the reporter. He sat down without invitation in the chair opposite her.

"Lois, can you tell me, what do you know about the fire at the scientific laboratories last night?"

Lois stiffened, her keen eyes searching his face. Those eyes widened as she saw traces of tiredness on _his_ face, too.

"Not a lot." She said. "Why?" She paused for a moment and Superman watched in silent admiration as the quick cogs of her mind put the pieces of the muddled jigsaw together. "Does it have something to do with your... bumble last night?"

Superman smiled slightly at her description of his cape-on-fire incident, reflecting quietly that it would have been a word more suited to the antics of his less famous alter-ego.

"Yes." He said, then his smiled faded and his tone became serious. "There was kryptonite, Lois." He paused, wondering what he would sacrifice by confessing the next part. "I'm... still feeling the effects."

Lois' eyes widened, and for a moment Superman thought she was going to reach out and take his hand, but she turned away and sighed instead.

"Geez." She said quietly, then shook her head. "How bad?"

"I can't... see through things at the moment." Superman admitted, and Lois raised an eyebrow.

"When's the last time that happened?"

Superman hesitated.

"Never. Then again, I've never _tried_ to use my X-Ray vision when affected by Kryptonite before..." once again he hesitated, searching her brown eyes for fear or possible treachery which he knew would not be there before continuing. "But this time, Lois... I think I inhaled it."

Lois, who had ceased her pacing for a moment, immediately began to walk to and fro once again, her brow creased and her mouth pursed tightly.

"God," she said softly, then looked back at him, her brown eyes concerned. "And... the rest? Do you... feel alright?"

Superman paused, looking down at his hands. He felt, absurdly, embarrassed, like a schoolboy making a fool of himself by stepping on a girl's feet at the end-of-year dance.

"You saw about the... cape incident." He stated, shrugging. Lois nodded, biting her lip – though she could very well have been doing so to hold back a smile rather than anything else.

"Maybe it's a good thing you've got some new help, then." She said, coolly, much to Superman's great admiration. Then she raised an eyebrow. "Perry's put me on _domestic_," she spat. "I suppose I'll have to hand this over to the new green-grass for investigation..."

"I don't think so," Superman said, smiling as he got up from his chair. "Knowing your editor, I don't think he expected you to stay there for long. Maybe," he added, as it occurred to him that his words may very well hold truth, "he's just trying to see if you've still got that... instinct in you. After all," he looked at her carefully, "you haven't worked alone for a long time. This could be your chance. And I would be _very_ grateful if you could find some answers to this. Look up the ownership of that factory."

He could never, he realised with regret, give her such forthright advice in _real life_. Lois listened to the costume, the invention, more than she did to the real man. Even now, she was nodding to words that, had they come from Clark Kent, she would have brushed off blithely – or so the man in front of her thought.

"You're right. You know what," she said, and she looked up at him, the bags beneath her eyes suddenly vanished, "I'll show them. Just wait!"

He took this as his cue to leave, and took off (though not, as he knew Lois would notice, with his usual speed or accuracy). When he was some ten feet in the air, however, he heard Lois whisper what she knew he would hear;

"Don't worry, Superman. You can count on me."

888

**A/N:** Please tell me what you think. Any constructive criticism is very welcome!


End file.
